Highlights

Friday began the worst of my Yangshuo days. I’d agreed to go along on a bike expedition to nearby Shinpin. Nearby, though, is a relative term. On bikes the average transit time is two and a half to three hours, but because I had the whole day before me, I wanted some exercise, and because the company seemed promising I brushed the details aside. Our ride over was pleasant enough, but things took a sour turn.

We had no sooner arrived in Shinpin central than a flock of hawkers zeroed in trying to sell us bamboo raft rides. We repelled them earnestly and went on our way. I’m fairly accustomed by now to the pushy insistence of all Chinese vendors, but one woman just wouldn’t quit. She followed us, we on our bikes, she on her electric scooter, around town for over half an hour. When we finally stopped to rest so too did the harpy.



I was closer at this point to robbing the woman and pushing her into the river than patronizing the bamboo-raft economy, but to my dismay she managed to entangle over half the group in negotiations. These went on for an hour and a half. I voiced my opinions as strongly as possible without being a total jerk. They were as follows: we never intended to go on a ride at all, any lower price we achieved would still be much higher than zero, the small sums at hand weren’t even worth the time wasted already, we could expect with certainty that, were we to accept, the boat would deposit us in some tourist-trinket-bazaar belonging to this woman’s family, and that, first and foremost, we should refuse it all on principle rather than reward her appalling behavior. In the morning I’d assumed that with six hours total of biking, and probably two or three in Shinpin, I’d have no issue making it back for Vichen’s party at seven. However, it was already two o’clock. We’d whiled away two hours doing nothing but haggle, still needed lunch, and the boat trip was expected to consume two more hours.
Despite my best efforts we lunched at an establishment belonging to none other than Raft-crone’s sister— the food was abysmal and on this everyone agreed. Then came the raft, the unavoidable swindlers, and finally it was time to leave. Noting the time, and seeking solitude to settle my dark humor, I put on all speed, abandoning the others, as soon as I was sure of the way and arrived back around six.




Friday-six-o’clock-Taylor was hot, tired, grumpy, and didn’t much feel like a party. I knew, though, that the girls would be disappointed if I bailed, and I also knew, in the back of my mind, that I could probably cheer myself up in the right environment. I collected Abel, a newly arrived volunteer from France, met Jordan, hooked up with Vichen and her friend, and off we went together.

The party, when we got there, was far larger than I expected. It was held in a vast courtyard, filled at the time with tables, chairs, and people, with a stage (probably 15x50 feet if I had to guess) opposite the gate. Vichen dragged us whiteys to a forward table, crowded with seven or eight girls already (I don’t know why, but the students at their school, and ours too, are predominately female), and another round of introductions began. Drinks were free, snacks were free, and as usual everyone confused Alaska with Las Vegas. I’m not sure how to account for it, but something like ninety percent of Chinese people confuse the two.

“Where are you from?”
“Alaska, it’s in the United States.”
“Oh! You must really like to do gambling!”

We were all warming up to each other when Vichen asked me something disturbing: “Soooo what have you prepared?” I replied that I hadn’t prepared anything and wasn’t aware of a need. “Nooo,” she mock whined, “you promised to do a song or a dance!” Then I remembered. I had grudgingly agreed that I might dance at the party (but certainly never agreed to sing!) the day before. However! I assumed, as anyone would, that I was agreeing to dancing of a normal sort: that is to say with other people, on a dance floor. All the while, though, students had been coming and going from the stage to deliver their own dance/song routines. In a flash I understood, she wanted me to follow suite.



My refusal was adamant. One cannot, without some serious training, improvise a dance routine, especially to music one had never heard before! Neither can one sing a song (At all! Never mind badly!) if one doesn’t remember the entirety of any lyrics. As the entire table joined in cajoling the situation started to get out of hand. So, in order to pacify them, I assented to join a group performance of something like a Chinese incarnation of the Chicken Dance. I’d be among others, and the whole point of the thing was to be silly, so I felt fine about messing it up. Up I went. Down I came. I considered the situation resolved.

Vichen was not appeased. She still demanded a song. Emboldened by success and a few drinks I set about internal browsing for songs, but I was hard put. I’m not a singer, I don't make it a point to memorize lyrics. I'd be surprised to remember words to anything (besides, possibly, a few Disney tunes). In the midst of this process voices called me back to the moment. There was about to be a Taiji performance. “Go! Go!” I was encouraged. Everybody knew already of my interest in Kung Fu. I resisted, not wanting to make a fool of myself amidst people who actually knew the style. However, I was told that only the master really knew Taiji, and everybody else up there was simply about to try keeping up with him. That, I thought, I could handle. Up I went again.



What followed was a miserable example, on my part, of Taiji, but it was nevertheless a brilliant success. Nobody else could keep up with the master, he performed the form very rapidly to music, and they left the stage to us. Thanks to my flexibility, martial arts exposure, and to the fact that I was deep in “the Zone” I kept up with him nearly perfectly through everything from cloud hands, to spinning crescents, to a tornado kick dropping to a low, low one-foot stance (which I’d never seen before but accomplished anyway, and flowing Taiji aesthetics: feats that garnered cheers, a first among firsts for me. Of course I made mistakes, but I was, for lack of other words, on fire. I glossed over the rough parts with anything I could smoothly match a transition to for a moment, and I don’t think the audience could tell the difference. We closed the form and I left the stage in extreme exhilaration, ascending for the rest of the night to mini-celebrity status— the recipient of many a congratulation, compliment, and request for pictures. I won’t forget that night any time soon, but I have a souvenir just in case: a scroll with “Dragon” on it that the host scrawled and presented to me.

We stayed at the party until it broke up before heading out to eat with the girls, and that’s all I care to write for the moment. It was an awesome time though, truly awesome.



I've also gained the ability to do the "lotus" sitting position without warming up. I'm pretty exciting. It's the ideal seated position, because you have three points of contact with the ground and you can sit perfectly straight with no effort.